The Abbot of Imleach nodded moodily. ‘Even if this council goes ahead, I do fear the outcome. I have spoken to many, as I have said before, and the Gauls, Britons and the people of our own five kingdoms will not accept these new ideas from Rome easily.’
‘When you were with Abbot Dabhóc, did he ever speak to you of a gift he was bringing here for the Nuntius to take back to Rome?’ Fidelma asked, changing the subject.
Abbot Ségdae looked bemused. ‘What sort of gift?’ he asked. ‘He never mentioned anything to me.’
‘Then please speak of this to no one,’ Fidelma replied. ‘We think it was a reliquary box-the relics of the Blessed Benén who was Patrick’s helper and disciple.’
‘At Imleach we have long known that Ard Macha has been attempting to claim that it is the primacy of all the five kingdoms and we have long fought against it,’ said Abbot Ségdae. ‘We know that the bishops of Ard Macha have already written to the bishops of Rome to enlist their support. Perhaps this is another means of trying to solicit the backing of Rome.’ He tutted to himself. ‘It is sad that even in the Faith, man resorts to politics…!’ He suddenly looked hard at Fidelma. ‘Are you saying there is some connection with the death of Dabhóc and this matter?’
‘I am not saying that…yet,’ she responded. ‘I would appreciate it that nothing is said.’
‘You have my word. Have you spoken to Dabhóc’s steward? I forget his name but he might know something.’
‘I have spoken to him-but again, I would appreciate it if no more was said.’
‘Very well.’
There came the distant ringing of a bell.
Abbot Ségdae glanced up in surprise. ‘Tempus fugit. It is the bell to end the day’s toil in the abbey and prepare for the evening meal.’
For people from the five kingdoms it was a signal for their daily bath, which always occurred before the evening meal.
The abbot hurriedly made his excuses and left them.
They joined him when the bell tolled again to announce the evening meal. Brother Gillucán was at the table in the refectory looking withdrawn and nervous, and while Fidelma glanced encouragingly at the young man she did not refer to their earlier meeting, nor did he. Abbot Ségdae waited until after the ritual of the gratias, the meal and the dismissal were over before approaching Bishop Leodegar. After a hurried conversation, the bishop accompanied the abbot back to where Fidelma was waiting with Eadulf.
‘I apologise, Sister Fidelma, if my intentions were misinterpreted. I will make sure that my instructions are followed more carefully. Of course you have the freedom to come and go, as you will. Only please respect my wish that you are circumspect.’
‘That was my understanding of our agreement,’ said Fidelma solemnly. ‘I was sure that Brother Chilperic was simply being a little over-zealous.’
Bishop Leodegar looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Just so. Just so. Though I must confess that I cannot understand why you need to consult with Abbess Audofleda.’
‘It is difficult to explain where one’s path will lead in an investigation,’ Fidelma said smoothly. ‘Perhaps into a blind alley, perhaps down a side turning, perhaps nowhere at all. One has to follow one’s instincts.’
‘Very well, I shall send a message to Abbess Audofleda telling her to expect you. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?’ But his voice betrayed both reluctance and curiosity.
Fidelma bowed her head in acknowledgement.
The bishop waited a moment more before, with a jerk of his head towards both of them, he turned and moved off.
Later that night, Fidelma woke Eadulf. He blinked in the candlelight.
‘It’s still dark!’ he protested sleepily.
‘And time to do some investigation-remember?’
Eadulf groaned. ‘So I must go seeking the ghosts of Brother Gillucán’s imagination?’
‘As you suggested yourself. Find the necessarium and see what there is to be seen. I do not think there will be anything, but one needs to be thorough.’
Still grumbling Eadulf climbed out of the bed and pulled on his robe.
‘Auroa Musis amica,’ chuckled Fidelma as she watched him.
‘We have a similar saying,’ replied Eadulf without humour. ‘The early bird catches the worm.’
‘So I suppose you know where to go?’ she asked, as he took the candle and made his way to the door.
He turned back with some of his old spirit.
‘I am not so slow,’ he chided. ‘You may have noticed that after the evening meal, I followed a couple of the brethren who were almost running along the corridor. They led me to the necessarium.’
Fidelma was puzzled. ‘How did you know they were going there?’
‘When you see men hurrying in such a manner after having imbibed, then it is logical enough.’ He allowed himself a grin before adding: ‘I’ll be back soon.’
The necessarium for the brethren was along a corridor that led to the far side of the abbey, against what Eadulf judged to be the southern wall of the city. He moved quietly along the corridors, holding the tallow candle before him to light his way. There were few lanterns in this section of the abbey; the guest quarters were, of course, among those areas that were well lit.
Eadulf suppressed a shiver as he crept down the narrow stairwell to the lower floor. He paused to listen at the bottom before making his way along the final darkened corridor to the room which the brethren used as the communal necessarium. He entered it, closed the door behind him and, holding up his candle, peered around.
It was a large square room with a stone trough in the middle in which water lay reflecting the candlelight with curious sparkles and ripples. This was for washing. The floor itself was tiled, and around the walls was a continuous line of marble seats with no partitions between them. In each seat was a hole that dropped into darkness but from which Eadulf could hear the trickle and splash of a watercourse-a stream that ran underneath. Each person could go to a chosen seat and perform their natural functions before moving to the central pool to wash. There was little privacy here when one came to perform one’s ablutions. A memory returned to Eadulf; it was like one of the communal necessaria that he had seen in Rome when he was there.
An objectionable odour rose from the open seating. He sniffed in disapproval, wondering which poor member of the brethren was sent down to clear the water channel when it became blocked with the excrement of his fellows. Eadulf screwed up his face into an expression of distaste, trying to push the unwelcome thought from his mind.
He moved to stand near the centre of the room by the water trough and listened, but there was no sound apart from the trickling of the water channel beneath the seats. He waited a few moments and then slowly walked around the walls by the seats, pausing now and then to listen. A sudden hooting sound caused him to stop in his tracks with heart pounding, until he realised it was the mournful cry of an owl. There were two windows, high up and open to the sky, and the bird must have flown by. He crept on again. No, there were no cries of souls in torment.
Eadulf even climbed to the back of the stone seating and placed his ear against the wall to listen. Nothing. No demonic cries or whispering through the stonework. Sighing, he climbed down again. He next looked at the windows and then the door, trying to place the room in the context of the whole abbey complex. Turning back to the wall on whose seats he had climbed to listen, he realised that this must be a dividing wall between the male quarters and the Domus Femini, the house of women.
Giving a final glance around, and holding his candle high, he went to the door and opened it.